Relapse
by LittleGreenBudgie
Summary: Celeste's killers hadn't even been brought to justice and already Adrian was staring at another woman. But Franziska looked so in control, so self-assured, and Adrian almost didn't care. For the first time in over two years, she felt something close to okay.


Matt Engarde's hotel room had been packed with people ever since the murder. Police, attorneys, and bystanders alike tromped in and out, dusting for fingerprints, poking through suitcases, and pestering Adrian Andrews with nonstop stupid questions.

As such, Adrian barely even noticed when another woman walked in...at least, she didn't until an earsplitting crack brought the room to silence.

"Everyone out. Now! I'd like to speak to the witness alone," the woman demanded. She didn't dress like a policewoman. Her authority seemed to come from the bullwhip in her hand—from how quickly the officers scurried out of her way, she wasn't timid about using it.

Adrian wiped the shock offher face and stood up straighter. Her lies already crouched, waiting, on her tongue. All she had to do was play her part for one more day, and that wretched Engarde would get what he deserved.

"State your name," the woman with the whip said. Her eyes tore into Adrian like an eagle's claws, and it took all her willpower not to pull away.

"Adrian Andrews," she replied, and she was pleased that her voice didn't shake. Celeste's voice never shook.

"I am Prosecutor Franziska von Karma. I want to know everything about the crime," the other continued. Franziska spoke quickly, but crisply, a European accent of some sort coloring her words. She had eyes like gunmetal and justice, and Adrian realized her own lips were half-parted. She licked them nervously and nodded.

"Very well. I returned from the Gran Prix ceremony and started eating dinner. Matt Engarde was with me the whole time. He seemed excited from his victory, and he only talked about the ceremony. After we finished eating, he took a nap, and I left to help set up the stage show. That took approximately an hour. I didn't return to the hotel room during that time," Adrian recounted matter-of-factly. "I went to check on Juan before I woke up Matt, just to make sure he was all right after losing so badly. He looked like he was sleeping in his chair, so I poured a glass of juice. But he didn't wake up when I shook him, and that's when I knew he was dead. I went to wake up Matt and call the police, and I've been detained here ever since."

Franziska nodded lazily.

"Is that all?"

"All but the trifling details."

The prosecutor's whip cracked against the tile a half inch before Adrian's feet. She couldn't help but jump back, pulse racing, her muscles drawing bowstring-tight.

"Don't ever lie to me again," Franziska said, her voice the stillness of black water with the promise of razor teeth lurking below.

"I don't know what you mean," Adrian replied. Heat touched her cheeks. She'd shown weakness. She couldn't show weakness.

Franziska's eyes narrowed and the hand that gripped her whip twitched. Adrian pulled back despite herself.

"The knife, Adrian Andrews. The button, Adrian Andrews. The _blatantly obvious corpse, Adrian Andrews_. I refuse to believe that you are foolish enough to miss a bloody knife in a man's chest!" she barked. Adrian tried to match her stare, tried to borrow Celeste's strength, but Franziska brushed it aside with a single glance. She was a warrior, a hunter, strong and confident and beautiful.

Adrian's heart shivered.

"He was in the corner, sitting in his chair. I didn't expect a body, so I didn't pay him much mind. That's why I didn't notice at first," she replied. Her voice came out softer than she meant.

"You're wasting my time," Franziska said. She turned on her heel and made to walk away. "Matt Engarde will be found guilty with or without your foolishness."

Adrian watched her in silence for a moment before her voice caught up with her brain. Her eyes ran over Franziska's squared shoulders and tailored black vest, lingered too long on her narrowed waist, her curved hips, her muscular legs-

"Wait," she said, her mouth dry. "I...You promise that you'll find Matt guilty?"

Franziska looked back, a smirk on her lips.

"A von Karma is perfect. I have been prosecuting since I was thirteen, and in my career, I have only lost twice. I will not lose a third time."

Her confidence sparked off her, filling Adrian with an electric assuredness. She stood up straighter, and she knew she was staring, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. It felt _good_.

It felt _familiar_.

"I'll cooperate," Adrian said weakly.

Franziska's grin widened, showing perfect straight teeth.

"Excellent."

The prosecutor took a seat on the couch, her legs crossed neatly under her short skirt, too short, short enough to pull Adrian's eyes and make her cheeks flush. She hurriedly sat down. For a moment, she felt sick. Celeste's killers hadn't even been brought to justice and already Adrian was staring at another woman. But Franziska looked so in control, so self-assured, and Adrian almost didn't care. For the first time in over two years, she felt something close to okay.

"I honestly didn't notice he was dead at first," she started, forcing herself to meet Franziska's eyes. She knew she looked pleading, and she hoped Franziska didn't misunderstand her. "That's why I poured the juice. When I realized he was dead, though...I knew Matt did it. He had to have. But I was worried, you see, that the police wouldn't realize it, like they hadn't realize he'd...well, that's not important. Just a trifling detail. I went back to Matt's room and grabbed the steak knife from dinner, and...plunged it into Juan's chest."

 _And I liked it_ , she thought, but she didn't feel guilty. Matt deserved justice the most, but Juan...Juan, gutless Juan, tossing Celeste aside on a whim and hiding her suicide note...Juan deserved everything that happened to him, too.

"His blood got all over his costume, and I thought to use that, too, so I tore off a button and put it in Matt's hakama while he slept. I don't regret it," Adrian finished.

Franziska nodded.

"I thought so. But I don't care about your petty crime, Adrian Andrews. Testify without mentioning it. If that damnable Phoenix Wright tries to force you to talk about it, don't. I'm not sure if you're familiar with American law, but you have something called 'the Fifth Amendment.' It says that you cannot be forced to testify about anything that can incriminate you. I promise you that if you don't testify about forging evidence, then I will find Matt Engarde guilty."

She grinned again, cocky, triumphant. For the first time, Adrian realized that Franziska was young, younger than she was. She looked about ready to start college, not to perfectly prosecute a murderer. Celeste hadn't been so young. Celeste had been four and a half years older than Adrian, and she had already known everything about everything. Adrian would wager there was a similar age gap between Franziska and her...but again, she felt so stupid and helpless beside her, like a baby bird without flight feathers. Franziska knew how the world worked. Franziska would get Matt Engarde a guilty verdict. Franziska would fix all her problems.

Her heart shivered again, and she smiled back, her first real smile in a long time. Maybe in two years, maybe since Celeste slipped a noose around her neck, maybe since she lost all direction in her life.

That feeling came crashing down when Franziska spoke:

"There's something else I need to know. My little brother tracked down some background information on this case that I believe to be vital for tomorrow. Tell me—who, exactly, is Celeste Inpax?"

Adrian froze. She felt the familiar sensation of water closing over her head, rendering her blind and helpless and immobile. Her throat worked, but no words came out.

"Adrian Andrews. Answer the question."

"Celeste," she replied, and the name came out with a jigsaw of emotion, sharp enough to cut her throat. "Celeste was _everything_."

Uncertainty flickered across Franziska's features. She regained her composure swiftly, though, and she leaned forward.

"Tell me more," she said, not gently, but close enough.

Adrian's arms moved without conscious thought, clutching tight across her chest as if she could hold herself together.

"Celeste was my mentor," she said. The words couldn't begin to describe their relationship, but they were all she had. "I worked part-time at Global Studios at first, helping sort through paperwork and old computer files. She...Celeste always saw the best in everyone, even when they didn't deserve it. She saw something in me, and she hired me full-time as her personal assistant. She taught me everything about being a manager. She took a...clumsy, nervous, _useless_ girl, and she made me into something."

Adrian's voice shook, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Celeste believed in me like no one else ever has. I...I needed her, I _loved_ her, and now she's dead and it's all Matt and Juan's fault. They drove her to...they...she..."

She lost control of her voice and could only shake her head miserably. Adrian drew her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead against them.

Franziska cleared her throat, but Adrian didn't respond. It was the first time she'd talked to anyone about Celeste since she quit therapy. It felt like each word had to be torn from her chest, pulling flesh from her ribs with it in raw red strings.

"Look at me," Franziska insisted. When Adrian didn't move, she seized her by the shoulders and repeated, harsher, "Adrian Andrews, look at me!"

She complied, heat rushing to her cheeks. Tears blurred her vision, but Franziska was so close that her eyes could focus anyway. Franziska looked fierce, determined, (and maybe a little compassionate, Adrian thought, heartbeat quickening) and her grey eyes didn't waver.

"Don't cry. It's...foolish. I will avenge your mentor. I will get Matt Engarde a guilty verdict."

Adrian wiped at her eyes, but her shoulders still shook under the other woman's hands. She didn't pull away, though. There was something comforting in the too-strong grip, and she uncurled like a hedgehog.

"I believe you," Adrian said, quiet and awed.

Franziska smiled again, softer around the edges than her earlier smirk. It still wasn't a particularly warm smile, sharpened as it was by those hawkish eyes, but it soothed Adrian regardless.

"You would be a fool not to," she huffed.

Celeste had never been that arrogant. Celeste had been soft and tender and still utterly in control...but Celeste wasn't there anymore, and Adrian was so, so tired of being alone. Franziska made her feel safe. Twenty minutes' time and she'd already sworn her soul over to a beautiful stranger with steel in her eyes and a whip in her hand, but Adrian didn't care. She sniffled again and tried to return the smile.

"Think about what I said," the prosecutor ordered.

"All right."

"And..." Franziska hesitated. She licked her lips before continuing:

"And don't make a fool of yourself by getting all emotional over this. I will take care of everything."

Did Franziska sound sympathetic? Did she understand just how scared Adrian was? Maybe. It didn't matter either way as long as the job got done, as long as Matt Engarde hanged.

 _I will find Matt Engarde guilty. I will avenge your mentor. I will take care of everything._

Adrian felt a little dazed, as if she'd stared into the sun, and warmth surged through her.

"I know I can depend on you."


End file.
